Amico Mio
by Lady Sikerra
Summary: Figures that the first thing I upload in forever would be gay smut. XD Well, it isn't exactly smut, but it is my first story involving Ezio/Leonardo. So you have been warned. Rated M for safety. Dedicated to AtlasRain.


Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. QQ.

Author's Note: So this is my little Ezio/Leonardo slash fic, because throughout the game I couldn't help but think that they would be really cute together. Now I'm aware that Ezio's just a man whore and not gay, but anybody who's as big a slut as Ezio is potentially bisexual and likely bi curious. I'm telling you now that that's my take on it, so if you don't agree, you don't have to read this, and you don't get to complain if you read it anyway after I've given you fair warning. Just saying, guys. At any rate, I hope you all enjoy.

Edit: Gah, fail formatting is fail. Have an edit.

Amico Mio

Ah, Venezia, with its impressive architecture, beautiful goods, and lively, fascinating people... and Ezio couldn't seem to focus on any of it. Even as Alvise led them through the streets and spoke of how magnifico the city was, Ezio had a hard time truly appreciating its grandeur. His mind had been a jumble for the past few days, perhaps even weeks, and he found that he was increasingly distracted and unable to focus. But he wasn't sure quite why.

He tried to chalk it up to restlessness and boredom; being on a ship for so long had mostly forced him to be alone with his own thoughts, which he tried to avoid doing. And for good reason, it seemed; the vast majority of his thoughts had been focused on fornication or at least relief from some sexual tension. The last woman he'd had was in Forli, which wasn't so bad, he supposed, but it was long enough ago to frustrate him. Moreover, whenever he tried to talk to Leonardo about women (if he couldn't do anything, the next best thing was to talk about it), the artist never seemed to have much to say.

He suspected this was because of Leonardo's... proclivities. Ezio had been aware of Leonardo's proclivities from the beginning, when his mother had first mentioned it. Ezio had thought nothing of it then, when he didn't know Leonardo very well, but now, especially after all the time they'd spent together, he was beginning to take the idea a little more seriously. For the first time he had an idea of how difficult it must have been for Leonardo, how lonely he must have been, how dissatisfied with his love life. That was probably why he focused so much on his art and inventions; at least it provided a distraction from the emptiness that must surely be there.

Now he watched Leonardo as the man picked up a small wooden figurine; it had posable arms and legs and was clearly meant to resemble a man. The artist looked at it with an expression of wonder on his soft features, his blue eyes illuminated with the light of curiosity that so often found its home there. Ezio watched as Leonardo begged him to buy it, and as he reached into his pocket to pull out his purse someone bumped into him. He warned the figure, swift and lithe, to be more careful, and too late he realized his pocket had been picked. He glanced back at the little wooden man and the slight look of disappointment on Leonardo's face as he realized he would not have it, and Ezio resolved to buy it for him when he'd made a little more money.

After all, didn't Leonardo deserve a friendly gesture?

* * *

Looking around his new workshop, Leonardo decided that Alvise had been right; it was as though he had never left Firenze. Sometimes he wished he hadn't; things had seemed so simple and innocent in Firenze. In Firenze he was just a simple artist and inventor, adored by many women, free to work on his own time. In Firenze Ezio was just another young noble, rambunctious and ribald, and no one was trying to kill him and he wasn't trying to kill anyone. When had things gotten so complicated?

Of course, it hadn't been as simple as that in Firenze, either. But somehow things felt especially different now. Truth be told, he still hadn't recovered from the shock of almost being killed en route to Forli, and being on solid ground after so much time at sea was giving him a bit of a headache. Perhaps if he just sat down for a while he would feel better.

He located what would be his bed and lied down, closing his eyes as he began to massage his temples. He felt a little better, and after a few moments he let out a contented sigh and allowed himself a small smile. He was so happy to be somewhere safe, where no one was trying to kill him and he was at no risk of falling overboard and drowning. The situation would have only improved if Ezio had decided to stay, even for a little while, but their parting embrace had been a nice gesture.

He opened his eyes and frowned, laying his hands at his sides. There were those thoughts again, those thoughts of Ezio as more than a platonic acquaintance. He'd had such thoughts with increasing frequency of late, and they were starting to irritate him. At first they were pleasant daydreams (and he supposed they always would be, to a degree), but he realized that his fantasies could never come true, and he was annoyed at his inability to stop himself from having such impure, impossible thoughts.

He stood up and began to pace, trying to do something to distract himself. But he couldn't stop thinking of his amico, of the way he'd felt so warm and safe in their parting embrace, how he longed to be wrapped in those strong arms again. The seemingly endless days it had taken to travel from Forli to Venezia had been almost unbearable; he'd been so close to his desires and yet unable to act. How many nights had they slept close enough to touch and had not? How often had they stayed up all hours and talked but never said anything truly important? How many mornings had Leonardo awoken and had to wash himself because of his tantalizing dreams? He didn't know how he'd resisted the urge to throw himself off the ship in despair.

Finally he sighed in defeat. He would just have to do what he always did; keep himself busy, find interesting things with which to entertain himself. He just had to try to think of all the possibilities that awaited him in Venezia and forget all the impossibilities that would never happen with Ezio.

* * *

Leonardo was fighting off a headache as he decoded the latest Codex page Ezio had collected. Ezio was here, more talkative than usual, but all about Rosa, Rosa, Rosa. For weeks whenever Leonardo has seen the man the spirited female thief was all he'd been able to talk about. Leonardo doubted Ezio was falling in love (somehow he thought- perhaps feared- that Ezio was not emotionally mature enough to ever fall in love), but his new verbosity was worrisome.

Suddenly he realized that he'd translated an entire line of text incorrectly, and as he angrily scratched it out he said sternly, "Ezio, I do not wish to be short with you, but I need quiet if I'm ever going to get this right."

Ezio's chatter ceased immediately, replaced by a silence that was only broken when he mumbled, "Mi dispiace, amico mio."

"Grazie." Time passed in silence, and eventually Leonardo finished decoding the page. He rolled it up and handed it back to Ezio, saying with a somewhat false smile, "Here you are, my friend."

Ezio smiled slightly in return, and as he took the page from the other man their hands touched briefly, almost tenderly, and Leonardo caught himself wondering if the Assassin hadn't done that on purpose. "Grazie, Leonardo." He tucked the Codex page away in one of his pockets, then suddenly embraced his friend. He gave the inventor a gentle squeeze and then turned away, casting him one last mischievous glance as he opened the front door and disappeared into the streets of Venezia.

So focused was he on Ezio's odd behavior that it took Leonardo a moment to realize his own pocket felt somehow heavier. When he inspected it, much to his surprise and delight, he found the small wooden figurine he had so wanted when he'd first arrived. He gasped and examined it, moving its little wooden limbs, turning its little wooden head. He smiled at it and held it close to his heart, thinking that Ezio had probably stolen it, but not really caring either way. The fact remained that Ezio had thought of it, thought of _him_, and that was enough to make him forgive any possible thievery.

Perhaps Ezio could fall in love, after all...

* * *

Merda. He needed to get away from these damned guards. The courtesans hadn't been enough of a distraction, and one of the guards had noticed when Ezio had emerged from the building, another Codex page in his pocket. So he'd taken off through the streets of Venezia, hoping to find somewhere inconspicuous to hide.

He turned a corner and realized he was fast approaching the canal. He didn't relish the thought of jumping into the water... but maybe he didn't have to; there was a gondola passing at just that moment. He timed his jump just so that he landed almost on top of the gondolier, knocking the poor man off into the water. As the man struggled to stay afloat Ezio called out, "Mi dispiace, amico!"

"Ezio?"

He turned around to face the source of the voice, only to find a very surprised Leonardo looking back at him. "Leonardo? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you." He looked back curiously at the still struggling gondolier. "Is that man going to be all right?"

Ezio cast the man another glance; guards, the same ones he had been attempting to escape, were now attempting to fish the man out of the water. "Si," he said, pushing them ever forward. "Don't look back."

Leonardo instead turned his gaze upon the Assassin. "What are you running from?" he asked, squinting up at the man.

Ezio pulled the Codex page out of his pocket and handed it to his friend. The inventor made a delighted noise and got to work immediately, and by the time they reached the dock he was done, handing it back to Ezio. Ezio tucked it into his pocket and stepped onto the dock, then turned around to help Leonardo out of the gondola. For a moment the older man blushed and hesitated, but finally accepted his hand and stepped out of the gondola.

"So where were you that you had to get home by gondola?" Ezio inquired.

Leonardo blushed again and clutched the box he was carrying close to his side. Ezio took notice of it for the first time; it was rectangular and elegantly wrapped, thin enough that it may have contained a piece of clothing. Perhaps it was another cape, knowing Leonardo. Whatever it was, the inventor didn't talk about it, merely said, "I was visiting a new friend of mine."

Ezio genuinely smiled. "Magnifico, Leonardo! What is his name?"

He shook his head. "You wouldn't know her."

"Her?"

Leonardo blinked at him, as though he were the one who was confused. "What, don't you think I can have lady friends? I was your mother's friend, once."

Ezio thought of when he had first met Leonardo, how simple life had been. "A long time ago," he said solemnly.

"Oh, Ezio." Leonardo touched his arm. "Mi dispiace, I did not mean to upset you."

Ezio shook his head. "It is all right, my friend. Those days are a pleasant memory; it does not pain me to think of them."

"It pains me," Leonardo said softly, and Ezio couldn't help but think of how horribly they'd failed at what should have been a simple conversation. It seemed all they'd been able to do was upset one another, and he hated to see Leonardo so upset. There was something about him that just seemed horribly deflated when he was saddened. The light left his eyes, and that was particularly disheartening.

So Ezio found himself saying, "Leonardo, what can I do to make you smile?"

A grin was already tugging at the corner of the man's lips as he replied. "Would you come home with me for lunch? I get so bored by myself; I would love your company."

Now Ezio smiled. "I would be honored, amico mio."

* * *

"So the man says, 'I've got a sausage for you right here!'"

The two men erupted with laughter, Ezio slapping his knee at his own joke and Leonardo doubling over carefully so as not to spill his wine. He didn't drink much, and he could tell, in the strange way that he supposed drunkards could, that he was a little too intoxicated for his own good, but somehow he didn't care. Drinking and laughing with Ezio was the most fun he'd had in months, and for once he was determined not to let his better judgment get in the way of that. So he wiped his eyes as he finished laughing and said, "Oh, Ezio, you are a naughty boy."

"So I've been told," Ezio replied, grinning just a little lecherously. Then he laughed again. "I think I've had a little too much to drink."

"Oh, come now, don't tell me the great Ezio Auditore, most feared Assassino in all of Italia, cannot hold his liquor?"

"Ah, do not trust everything mi madre would have you believe. I'm not that much of a drunkard." He wagged his finger unsteadily.

He laughed. "Oh, but your mother had me believe so many things, most of which are true, I've found." He said that with a little more sorrow in his voice than he had intended.

Ezio seemed to notice and said somberly, "Not everything is true, Leonardo."

Leonardo swallowed; these words seemed somehow ominous. "What is true, Ezio?" He wasn't sure what he meant by the question, but somehow it seemed like the appropriate thing to ask.

Ezio cleared his throat and set down his glass of wine, pulling his hood over his head as he stood. "Mi dispiace, Leonardo. Grazie for the meal and the wine, but I should go."

Leonardo set his glass down none too gently, scrambling to catch up with the man before he left the house. He superimposed himself between Ezio and the door, saying, "Ezio, please, tell me what troubles you. You are so distant sometimes; you are my dearest friend but sometimes I feel as though I hardly know you. Let me help you if I can; if not let me lend you an ear. I am good for that if nothing else."

Though he could not see the Assassin's face beneath his pristine white hood, he was aware of the tenseness of the man's body, the unevenness of his breath as he struggled to compose himself. Finally a strong pair of hands gripped Leonardo's waist and Ezio pulled him close, pressing his forehead against the inventor's. Leonardo breathed the other man's name softly, disbelievingly, and then scarred lips pressed against his and a soft tongue invaded his mouth. He was vaguely aware of his efforts to reciprocate, pushing his own tongue timidly forward as he draped his arms over Ezio's shoulders.

But such heavenly bliss had to end eventually, and when it did it was sudden and saddening. Ezio pushed him away frantically, as though he had made a horrible mistake, and looked at him apologetically before dashing out the door. Leonardo was too dazed and breathless to stop him.

He wasn't sure he would have, anyway.

* * *

Time passed, days, months, years; Leonardo didn't really know. Everything seemed to blur into one. He painted, sketched, invented, worked on commissions. He saw Ezio now and then, mostly to decode Codex pages, but they never spoke of the incident, and there was always a strange air between them, heavy with shame and disappointment. Even after Leonardo became close acquaintances with Antonio, a waif of a thief Ezio also knew, the inventor and the Assassin grew no closer than they already were, though their friendship thankfully did not fade.

But then came Carnevale...

Ezio slipped the mask over his face and secured it at the back of his head. He cast a questioning glance at Leonardo, who nodded enthusiastically with approval. He grinned a little in reply. It was always good to see Leonardo. The inventor always seemed so happy to see him, always assuming that he had died or fallen victim to some other grim misfortune; it was as though seeing one another assured Leonardo that the Assassin was, in fact, still breathing. The light was in his lovely eyes, and it warmed Ezio's soul.

"You look magnifico, Ezio," Leonardo said softly, still smiling.

"Grazie." He felt as though he had more to say, but he wasn't sure what.

So he let Leonardo break the silence. "Ezio, I know today is the day everyone wears a mask, but do you ever feel like you're wearing a mask every day?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, sometimes I do feel that way. What about you?"

"All the time. Except around you."

Their gazes met, and Ezio suddenly wanted to look away from the sorrow and longing that had filled Leonardo's eyes, that he knew had filled his own. He wasn't sure what compelled them both to say these things, these inconvenient things at inconvenient moments that they knew would never be anything other than inconvenient. But something did, something drove them to be foolish in this way, something tempted them. So he opened his mouth to speak because, after all, he could resist everything but temptation.

"Leonardo," he started, already uncertain of himself, "do you remember that day, years ago?"

A cautious grin tugged at the corner of the other man's mouth. "Was it years ago? Sometimes I swear it was only yesterday."

Ezio sighed. "Sometimes I wish it were only yesterday. I never apologized for what I did that day, and I am sorry for that as much as for my actions."

"Oh, Ezio." Leonardo waved the man's concern away with a flick of his wrist. "There was wine, we were foolish. I knew it could never be more than that." The smile that had begun to bloom had flowered into one of sorrow. "If anything I should thank you for giving me a glimpse of heaven."

"But you deserve more than that, Leonardo," he said suddenly, passionately, and it surprised the inventor. "You are my dearest friend, I see that now in a way I didn't before, and you don't deserve my poor treatment of you. I want to make amends, amico mio."

"Ezio, there are no amends to be made," Leonardo attempted to assure him.

But Ezio was already upon him, his arms around the other man's waist and his forehead pressed against Leonardo's. "I insist."

Leonardo looked up at him, hope and joy and terror and confusion all in his bright blue eyes as his breath caught in his throat. After a moment he closed his eyes and put his hands on Ezio's face, stroking his cheeks as he sighed and said softly, "Just once, Ezio, and never again. My heart could hardly bear your first desertion; give me this temptation but once more and then never again."

"Of course, amico mio." Then he pressed his lips against Leonardo's, and he kissed him as he would kiss any woman, and he was again surprised at how familiar it felt, how comfortable and safe. They stood like this, locked in a passionate kiss and hands roaming each other's bodies, until Ezio's hands came to rest over Leonardo's member, already stiffening beneath the cloth.

Leonardo gasped and jerked away, stuttering, "E-Ezio, you d-don't have to-"

Ezio held a finger to his friend's lips. "I want to, Leonardo."

Leonardo nodded slowly, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. But he allowed Ezio to proceed, and so Ezio released the other man's member, straining in its confines as it was. As he examined it, he suddenly realized he had no idea what he was doing. He'd never done anything like this before; he'd never thought of doing anything like this before. Perhaps that was a lie, perhaps he had had some private thoughts that he'd secretly entertained. But the fact remained that he didn't really know what to do. He tried to clear his mind and think of the various women he'd been with, what they'd done to him. It shouldn't be difficult, he thought then; they all made it look so simple, after all.

So he took Leonardo in his mouth, aware of the sharp, surprised inhalation of breath from above him. It wasn't so bad, he decided, not so strange as he had feared. He tried to pay attention to the parts that he knew would provide the most sensation, and eventually he moved into an easy, comfortable rhythm, varying it slightly when he felt it appropriate and looking up to see Leonardo's reaction every now and then.

Leonardo's eyes were closed for the most part, and an expression of pure bliss was on his face. His hands would tighten their grip on Ezio's shoulders now and then, eventually working their way up to his neck, where one of them snared in his hair and held on tightly. His breath was rapid and shallow, and Ezio could feel his legs trembling.

Eventually Leonardo let out a great moan and jerked away from Ezio suddenly, putting his own hand on his member and stroking it rapidly. Ezio stood still, surprised but knowing what would happen, and it wasn't long before Leonardo's seed was on his clothes. When it was done and Leonardo relaxed a little, slumping against the wall on which he had been leaning, Ezio laughingly said, "Well, I suppose I am thankful you did not have me swallow."

Between still shallow breaths Leonardo chuckled. "Yes, you would have found the taste quite disagreeable, I'm sure." Then he looked down at Ezio, grinning foolishly. "It seems I have given you a... a collona della perla." He laughed again.

Ezio glanced at his collar. "So it would seem," he agreed, also chuckling.

"Here, let me get you some vinegar..."

* * *

They never spoke of the incident again after that (they didn't really have to, in a way), though their interactions were not entirely chaste; when Leonardo relocated to the Villa Auditore at the behest of Ezio's uncle Mario, the inventor and the young Assassin got drunk one night and made love in a most spectacular fashion. Even though he'd asked Ezio to ensure that something like that never happened again, he could never refuse the younger man. But he found that he wasn't really bothered by the great time and space between these couplings, because the two men seemed to achieve a strange balance the longer they knew one another. They were friends, perhaps the best friends either of them had ever had, and expressing their friendship in the way they sometimes did ceased to seem strange or frightening.

And every morning when Ezio awoke he would come see Leonardo, give him a kiss on the cheek and say, "Good morning, amico mio."

And Leonardo would smile and say, "Good morning, amico mio."

And that, he decided as he watched the Assassin go, a smile on both their lips, was enough.

* * *

The blood is the life, Lady Sikerra.


End file.
